


comfort songs

by Rethira



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: They dress her in finery and Zelda doesn't feel real.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for anon!

(she’s dressed in fur and silk for her coronation. the robe of her ancestor’s draped around her shoulders, red and fur-lined. too hot for the summer weather, but zelda still looks radiant. the people cheer and cry to see her; impa weeps for sheer joy)

Zelda sits alone in her chambers. She is Queen now, lone ruler of Hyrule. It does not seem real. She does not recognise the person staring back at her in the mirror, dressed up in her father’s robes.

They had all been so happy to see her.

There’s a familiar knock at her door. Impa calls, “Your Highness?”

Zelda takes a moment to steady herself, before replying, “Come in, Impa.”

Impa is also dressed formally; the traditional garb of the Sheikah has always suited her. She is every inch Zelda’s Royal Protector at this moment. She pauses with her hand on the door, her expression soft and strange – Zelda looks away from her in the mirror.

“Zelda? What is it?” Impa asks, crossing the room to stand behind her.

“Nothing,” Zelda says, “it’s nothing,” but her voice sounds brittle even to her own ears.

Impa’s hand settles tentatively on her shoulder, as if she’s afraid it will be unwelcome. “Princess- no. Zelda. Please… please don’t lie to me.” It does not sound at all like an accusation.

Zelda flinches a little, trembles. She looks at Impa’s face in the mirror – can hardly bring herself to meet Impa’s eyes. “Impa, oh Impa,” Zelda says, covering Impa’s hand with her own, “I hardly know myself anymore.” She turns to face Impa at last, and stares desperately up at her. “They were so happy today, _you_ were so happy today, and I….”

Impa’s sudden embrace isn’t unexpected. She pulls Zelda close, crushing all their finery between them. Impa roughly pets Zelda’s hair, like she hasn’t done for _years_. “Tell me,” Impa asks, her voice little more than a whisper, “please, Zelda, you can tell me anything.”

The words spill from Zelda’s lips. All her fears; that she will not be half the ruler her father was, that she will lead Hyrule to war again. That she is losing herself to the _other_ Zeldas, the ones who crowd in her memories. That she has _already_ lost herself to them.

“ _No_ ,” Impa says, and she looks horrified even to think it. She brushes the tears from Zelda’s cheeks; Zelda hadn’t even noticed them. “You are yourself. You are Zelda – _my_ Zelda,” she insists. She unpins the heavy robe from Zelda’s shoulders. It slips to the floor, pooling around the seat. Impa ignores it entirely. “Let me help.” She holds out her hand.

Zelda’s shaking now, trembling, but she takes Impa’s hand. Impa leads her away from her father’s robe, and her hand is warm and comforting around Zelda’s. She stops before Zelda’s bed, turns back to Zelda, and smiles a little nervously. Her hands are careful as she unclasps the ceremonial armour Zelda is still wearing, gentle as she pulls the pins from Zelda’s hair.

“You are not your role,” Impa murmurs, pausing just briefly before she starts on Zelda’s dress. “Even though you are- you are my Queen now, you will always be Zelda to me. The Zelda I have known since she was small and liked to climb trees instead of learn her letters. The Zelda I have stood beside since we were both little more than children.” Impa stops outright, slips her hands around Zelda’s waist and pulls her close. “The Zelda I love.”

A shivery sob escapes Zelda, and she turns into Impa’s embrace. “Impa-”

Impa shushes her, kisses her forehead. She’s still in her formal clothes, still every bit the Sheikah Royal Protector but- but she is _Impa_ too. Zelda pulls her down for a kiss, and one soon becomes another and another. She turns her own hands to Impa’s armour, almost dropping it more than once, until they’re both half-dressed and standing together panting before Zelda’s bed.

Impa’s mouth is flushed from kisses, her hair mussed where Zelda has run her hands through it – you would not know she had stood at attention only moments before. Now she leans down and presses an open mouthed kiss to Zelda’s breast. Zelda gasps, clutches at Impa’s shoulders. She trembles as Impa kisses her again and again, whimpering outright when Impa’s lips brush her nipple. “Please,” Zelda whispers, urging Impa up again. She helps Impa out of the remainder of her bulky formal wear and then bends her own head to Impa’s breasts, peppering them with soft and gentle kisses.

Impa cards her fingers lightly through Zelda’s hair, nudges her chin upwards and kisses her again. Her hands settle on Zelda’s hips, brushing her underclothes, and she ducks her head back down.

Impa nuzzles Zelda’s breasts, and slightly pulls down her underclothes. She kisses a little lower down, just beneath Zelda’s breast, her teeth lightly scraping over Zelda’s skin, and at the same time slides her hand between Zelda’s legs. Zelda pulls Impa back up for a proper kiss, throwing her arms around Impa’s shoulders and grinding down against Impa’s fingers. She’s already wet and slick, and Impa knows where to touch her – her other hand rubs down Zelda’s spine, comforting, before she moves to massage gently at Zelda’s breast.

“I’m close,” Zelda murmurs, as Impa licks and nips her way back down Zelda’s throat. Impa hums in acknowledgment, and pauses briefly to pick Zelda up and carry her to the bed. Impa leans over Zelda, licking and nuzzling at her breasts and nipples before finally slipping her fingers back between Zelda’s folds, urging her towards completion. As Zelda shudders through it, she can hear Impa murmuring softly and gently, almost comfortingly, and it only makes her clutch at Impa tighter.

When the last tremors leave her, Zelda slowly eases back on her pillows. Impa lies down beside her, warm and close. She tangles her fingers with Zelda’s.

“Good?” Impa asks, voice pitched deliberately low.

“Yes,” Zelda replies, rolling over to curl against Impa. “Thank you. Thank you for being here, Impa.”

“They are unnecessary,” Impa murmurs, kissing Zelda’s cheek. “I would move mountains to be beside you.”

Zelda finds herself giggling at that, surprised and pleased. “I don’t doubt you for a moment,” she says, and some little more of the tightness in her chest eases. It isn’t all gone, not just yet, but with Impa here beside her Zelda thinks… perhaps she _will_ be the Queen everyone thinks she is.

(at court she dresses in her old clothes, worn dresses and riding gear; her advisors tut and murmur that she is still young, and it is not proper. but the people of hyrule smile to see her, their princess-queen just the same as she has always been; impa’s smile is soft and secret, and just for zelda)


End file.
